


Fragmented

by quake_quiver



Series: Ten Trails Challenge: Trail 10 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, Gen, Not really Dean positive, Post-Betrayal, Post-Gadreel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Has PTSD, aka season 9, first whump fic of the month!, to nobody's surprise sam suffers and it centers around gadreel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quake_quiver/pseuds/quake_quiver
Summary: He scrubs his hands raw. It doesn’t help. In the mirror, he sees Gadreel’s face instead of his own. Lucifer’s. Meg’s. Adam’s blood joins Kevin’s, swirling down the drain. Sam’s hands shake.
Series: Ten Trails Challenge: Trail 10 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950046
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33
Collections: Ten Trails Whump Challenge 2020





	Fragmented

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Betrayal." This is a look into Sam's feelings post-Gadreel, and how he feels about both Gadreel and Dean betraying him (although it's mostly Dean.) Spoilers abound for season 9, and not so Dean positive. Enjoy!
> 
> Key <3

His hands feel heavy. If he pressed his fingers together, Sam’s pretty sure they’d stick, tacky with invisible red.

He can’t see it, but when Sam wakes, he knows Kevin’s blood is still on his hands, twined through his fingers, coating his palms.

It makes him sick. He skipped dinner last night; this morning he skips breakfast.

He scrubs his hands raw. It doesn’t help. In the mirror, he sees Gadreel’s face instead of his own. Lucifer’s. Meg’s. Adam’s blood joins Kevin’s, swirling down the drain. Sam’s hands shake.

At lunchtime, Dean knocks on his door. Sam doesn’t give him a response. He wants Dean to go away, but then his door creaks as it opens.

“Hey,” Dean says, tone low. Hesitant.

Sam doesn’t answer him. He doesn’t move from where he is, curled under his covers. Cas has been texting him all morning.

Dean sighs. “Sam…”

Sam grimaces. “Don’t. Just…don’t.”

A beat. Dean’s footsteps come further into the room, and the bed sinks under his weight. “We gotta talk.”

Sam finally rolls over. He glares at Dean, cursing himself at the way tears are pricking his eyes already. When he moves his hands, they flash crimson.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sam mutters.

“Kevin,” Dean responds levelly. “Gadreel. You.”

Sam flinches with every word. There’s the same impact as if Dean had struck him.

He doesn’t say anything. This is the last conversation he wants to have. Not now, maybe not ever.

“Sam…” Dean’s tone implies that Sam is being unfair. Or ridiculous. Sam feels like he’s eighteen again, about to leave for Stanford. Or twenty-two, advocating to save Max Miller. Twenty-three. Twenty-four.

If there’s one thing that’s been a constant backdrop, it is the two of them playing on a hilled field, and all it does is make Sam wonder how he never saw this coming.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sam repeats. “You lied to me. Again.”

A beat. Sam holds his eyes open even though they burn, because when he closes them all he sees is Kevin, eyes burnt, spread across the bunker floor.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Dean tries. “You were dying. He saved you. Even if…even with what he did. He still saved you. I’m not saying sorry for saving you.”

Sam gapes at him. His phone buzzes with another text from Cas. His stomach feels hollow; Sam wishes he couldn’t see his hands.

“I hate you right now,” Sam admits, and Dean’s eyebrows lift with surprise.

When Sam doesn’t say anything else, Dean tilts his head. “Care to elaborate?”

“Do you…” Sam pulls in a deep breath through his nose. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be possessed? The, the violation of it?”

Dean swallows. “No.”

“You have _nothing_ ,” Sam says, a bitter, haunted edge creeping into his voice. “No say. No control. You are a prisoner in your own body, in your own mind. You say goodbye to choices. Do you know how hard that is? How damaging?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He offers a minute shake of his head.

“I used to promise myself that I would never let another angel in. No matter what. If God Himself told me to let an angel in, I’d suffer His wrath rather than go through that again. And now…Gadreel…”

“I didn’t know, Sammy,” Dean says quietly. “He said he was going to heal you. I was desperate. If I knew what he was going to do, I never would have done it.”

“You shouldn’t have done it anyway,” Sam snaps. “You knew. You knew how messed up I was after Meg. After Lucifer. I was ready, Dean. I was okay with being done, then, and you tricked me. You made a choice for me. Again. And now Kevin is…he’s…”

Sam’s hands spasm. Tears finally break and roll silently down his face.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder. Sam ducks out from under it.

“I can’t do this right now,” Sam whispers. “You betrayed me, Dean, and I…I can barely look at you.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean’s voice wavers. He looks close to tears himself.

Sam’s fingernails are crusted with Kevin’s blood. Adam’s. Dean’s. Meg, Gadreel, and Lucifer’s voices mingle in his head.

“I’ll give you some time,” Dean says, and stands from the bed. “Some space. I won’t push.”

Sam nods. Dean leaves, the door closing softly behind him, and Sam fractures.

He washes his hands again, until his skin is burning, skin red and angry under the scalding water. Lucifer’s eyes meet Sam’s in the mirror. He blinks and Gadreel smiles back.

Sam crawls back under his covers, pulls a bottle of whiskey from underneath the bed, and tries to forget.


End file.
